


tempted to touch

by damipussycomplex



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, First Kiss, Jealous Dick Grayson, M/M, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Male Character, Undercover Missions, Unwanted groping, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, according to dick, dami is trying his hardest to seduce dick, dami knows what he looks like and also knows exactly what he does to dick, dick thinks he’s a gross old man for wanting dami, inappropriate thoughts, lmao dick’s a dumbass who talks about parents and other people’s dicks during sex, milkshake death, very jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damipussycomplex/pseuds/damipussycomplex
Summary: The first time Damian tries anything, Dick nearly ends up falling off a rooftop.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Comments: 34
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo!! this is yet another fic even though i really should be working on my wips, so hope you enjoy!!

Damian is not an easy person to deal with. Now, Dick’s not saying that he’s difficult, and he’s definitely not complaining, because he  _loves_ Damian to bits. But sometimes he really wishes Damian would just explain  _why_ he does and says certain things instead of leaving Dick to try and figure it out himself. 

For example, today he’s been especially quiet. Hasn’t made any complaints about how he was partnered with Dick instead of Bruce for patrol today, even though Dick knows he’s been wanting to patrol with his dad ever since the Justice League came back from yet another off-world mission about five days ago. 

He hasn’t said anything yet about how they’ve been on a break for far too long, or how the milkshake that Dick bought for him is too sweet, despite the fact that he has a sweet tooth. He hasn’t even told Dick to shut up after hearing any of his puns. 

And he’s had a strange look on his face since they sat down on the edge of this rooftop, a pensive sort of look. It makes him look a little constipated, but Dick’s not going to tell him. 

Instead he carefully nudges Damian with his shoulder, obnoxiously slurping up his own milkshake through the straw in the cup when Damian spares him a glance. Damian’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t even scoff or tell Dick that he needs to break this supposedly disgusting habit of his before looking back out to the city. 

“Hey,” Dick says softly, waiting for Damian to look at him. He does after a minute or so, and Dick taps the side of his dangling boot with his foot, then reaches out to touch his fingers to the side of Damian’s domino mask, watching as the milky white lenses disappear so he can see Damian’s eyes. 

They’re a little distant, glazed over, but when he realises that Dick is looking at him, they quickly sharpen as Damian blinks twice and then dart down and to the side, his lashes long and thick enough to hide his eyes. 

“You’ve been quiet today, Robin,” he says, and almost reaches out to touch Damian’s cheek. He has to limit himself to a twitch of his fingers, curling them into a fist and then flattening his hand out. 

Damian clicks his tongue, and Dick knows that he’s in for a scolding. “Incessant chatter is needless and a distraction from the mission,” he says, and he sounds  _just_ like his dad. Just like Bruce when he’s more  _Batman_ than anything else. 

“As was this break,” Damian continues, narrowing his eyes up at Dick, who offers him a sheepish grin. Damian lifts up his empty cup and practically shoves it in Dick’s face. “I have finished mine, and you drank half of yours on the way here, yet you  _still_ haven’t finished it.” 

He sets the cup back down between his legs and stares at Dick, green eyes accusing. “What are you stalling for?”

“Me?” Dick asks, pointing at himself. “Why would I be stalling? If anyone’s stalling here, it’s  _you_.”

“ _Me?_ ”  Damian sounds almost outraged, puffing up like the defensive little hedgehog he is, but then he deflates, looking up to the sky and then almost reluctantly back at Dick, stars twinkling in his eyes. 

“I was not stalling, I was just — thinking. To myself.” He starts to chew on his lip, and Dick doesn’t even realise he’s doing it until his fingers are already there, gently tugging Damian’s bottom lip out from between his teeth. 

Damian blinks at him, staring like he’s seen an alien. Wait. That’s a horrible metaphor.  _Superman_ is an alien. Hell, one of Damian’s  _best friends_ is an alien. 

Either way, he’s looking at Dick like he’s done something so completely out of the ordinary, and Dick can feel his cheeks starting to heat up, hoping that the darkness of the night is enough to hide his red face. 

“Don’t bite your lip. You’ll make it bleed,” he hurriedly tries to explain, snatching his fingers back and deciding against not doing something so obvious as sitting on his hands to stop himself from touching Damian again, instead balling them into fists on his lap, then curling them around his cup. 

When he glances at Damian out of the corner of his eye, Dick isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating or not when he notices a pink tint to Damian’s cheeks. 

Damian clears his throat and brings his knees up to his chest, curling his arms around his legs to fiddle with the laces on his boots. “I have a problem that I wish to discuss with you,” he says quietly, drumming his fingers on his knees, and Dick is immediately concerned. 

“What’s wrong, Robin? Are you hurt?” He asks, leaning in to pat Damian down and check him for any injuries he might have hidden, but Damian clicks his tongue and pushes Dick away. Dick won’t deny that his fingers linger for a moment on Damian’s ribs before he pulls back. 

“No, it’s nothing to do with our night life,” Damian explains. It’s something much more... personal.” He suddenly straightens up and glares at Dick. “And you mustn’t tell a  _single soul_ about this conversation or I’ll cut your tongue off,” Damian threatens. 

Dick blinks at him. “Uh, okay. Is there any reason why you came to me about this or can I not ask questions either?” 

Damian gives him a withering look and then his face softens as he fidgets, one of his legs bouncing. Dick automatically reaches out to place a hand on his thigh and it slowly comes to a stop. 

Damian blinks and then turns his head to look down at the offending hand, which is inappropriately high on his leg. Dick snatches it back straight away, cursing himself for not being able to hold back his stupid urges around Damian. 

“I came to you because I was informed by many sources that you are the most well versed when it comes to my particular predicament,” Damian mumbles, pulling his cape tighter around himself, and Dick finds himself smiling a little at his choice in wording. 

Then Damian looks up at him, face and body language surprisingly open. “And because I trust you,” he says, and Dick can’t find a reason to doubt the sincerity in his voice. His throat feels dry and the smile freezes on his face, but Damian apparently doesn’t even realise. 

“When — how old were you when you had your first kiss?” Damian asks, and Dick’s so taken aback by how adorably shy he looks that he doesn’t even register the question at first. And then it clicks, and he nearly chokes. 

He takes another sip of his milkshake to calm himself down and then chuckles, almost wincing at how fake it sounds. “Girl trouble, huh? Or boy trouble, not making any assumptions.”

Damian’s scowling at him now, so Dick just shuts his mouth and decides to answer his question. “Around your age, I think. Maybe a little older. Why do you ask?” He says, grinning mischievously as he pokes Damian’s side and it gets him to jump, smacking at Dick’s hand. 

“Have you had your first kiss recently, Robin?” Dick asks, unable to resist teasing him. Damian flushes, but doesn’t say anything and his shoulders slump as he looks down at his lap. And Dick is fluent in Damianese, so understands that the answer to that question is a definite  _no_. 

“Is there someone you want to kiss?” He asks instead, softening his voice to a murmur as he pulls Damian’s hood off his head so that his face is no longer shadowed. Damian’s ears are bright red as he nods, and Dick nearly coos at him before realising that’s probably  not a good idea.

“Are you worried about it?” Dick says, and Damian’s face scrunches up like he’s confused. “I mean, nobody’s first kiss is gonna be perfect,” he explains. “Takes a little practise before you get good at it. You need a little more experience on your side before you can consider yourself a good kisser. I mean, unless you’re a natural.”

“What was  _yours_ like?” Damian demands, eyes narrowed, and Dick can’t say no to him. 

“I mean, back when it happened, I thought it was the best thing ever,” Dick says, bashful as he scratches the back of his neck, tracing the condensation dripping down the side of his milkshake cup. “But looking back on it, it wasn’t too great. A little messy, sloppy. My breath probably wasn’t too nice. Our noses kept knocking together because we both tilted our heads the same way.”

Damian looks concerned, so Dick rushes to assure him. “You’ll be fine, kiddo. I didn’t have a cool big brother to help me out,” he jokes. “But  you do. Just go with the flow. Practise.”

Damian frowns at him. “How am I supposed to practise kissing before my first kiss?” He asks, cocking his head like a little bird. Like a  _Robin_. Like  _Dick’s_ Robin. Dick’s breath catches in his throat and he forgets to answer. 

“Nightwing?”

Dick blinks rapidly and shakes his head. “I — practise with your hand?” Damian’s frown deepens at that, lines cutting into his forehead and between his eyebrows. 

“ _Practise with my hand?”_ Damian repeats, disdainful and clearly unimpressed. 

“Or ask someone with a little more knowledge for tips?” Dick suggests, breath quickening at the sight of a sly little curl to Damian’s lips. His hands suddenly itch with the need to touch, to trace the perfect bow of Damian’s mouth with his fingers and then with his tongue. 

_No_. He can’t. He mustn’t take advantage of Damian like that, not when he knows that Damian would do  _anything_ to please him,  _especially_ not when he knows that Damian would be so  _good_ for him.

“Someone with a little more knowledge? Someone like  _you_ , you mean?” Damian asks as he huddles closer to Dick, close enough that Dick could kiss him. He licks his lips absentmindedly, eyes drawn to Damian’s mouth. 

“Sure,” he says, not paying attention. Damian’s mouth twitches, almost into a grin, but not completely. It’s something that looks a little more like a smirk. 

“So predictable, Nightwing,” he murmurs, looking up at Dick through his lashes as he licks his own lips, flashing his teeth. Dick just nods along in agreement, feeling almost drawn to him, wanting to feel the warmth of Damian’s body seeping into his own hands. 

“So if I asked you to show me how to be a good kisser, you’d do it? You’d kiss me?” Damian says, leaning in so that Dick can see the tips of his dark eyelashes, moving his hand until their fingers are touching. 

Wait,  _what?_

“What?  _No_ ,” Dick splutters as he jerks back, and in doing so, nearly sends himself falling off the rooftop and breaking his legs. He’s only saved by Damian’s quick reflexes as he grabs Dick’s arm and yanks until he’s flat on his back, a safe distance from the edge of the roof. 

Unfortunately, Dick’s half-finished milkshake is not salvaged, and he crawls forward to watch it plummet to the ground and land with a miserable splat, spilling all over the floor. A shame, really. Dick had wanted to finish that. 

“Nightwing, you  _idiot_ ,”  Damian suddenly snaps, shaking him. “You absolute  _dunderhead_. Are you  _trying_ to get yourself  _killed?_ ”

“Uh.” It wasn’t exactly  _his_ fault.  _Damian_ is the one who surprised him, but Dick gets the feeling that Damian wouldn’t appreciate being accused of anything right now, going by the furious scowl on his face. “Nope.”

Damian growls under his breath and picks up his own empty cup before getting to his feet, hauling Dick up from the ground too. “That’s  _enough_ ,” he says, pulling out his grapple gun. “Our break has lasted much longer than it need to. Come.”

And then he’s leaping off the roof, shooting a line and following it. Dick has no choice but to go after him. 

The rest of the night is almost painfully awkward, even with Dick’s usual quipping and Damian’s resulting snapping at him. They’re professionals though, so they don’t let what happened get in the way of their jobs, even though their movements are stiff and a little uncoordinated. 

When they get back to the manor, both of them strip and go straight into the showers, but at completely opposite ends. Dick tries his best to ignore the way his cock twitches as he remembers Damian leaning into him with dark eyes and parted lips. 

He ignores the fact that he almost gave in, almost kissed Damian, his  _very_ underage younger brother, who he’s sure didn’t mean to be so tempting, who he’s sure didn’t understand the implications of what he was asking and doing. 

Because if Dick acknowledges that there’s a chance Damian did all that on purpose, that Damian intentionally goaded him into nearly kissing his soft, pink mouth, he doesn’t know what will happen. 

Doesn’t know how he’ll react next time Damian tries something. But one thing is for sure: he can not afford to give in, can’t afford to get his mouth on Damian’s and press his fingers into Damian’s soft skin. Because that would be a gross betrayal of both Damian’s and Bruce’s trust. 

Bruce, who  _still_ believes that Dick is just Damian’s big brother. That Dick feels nothing but purely  _platonic_ affection towards Damian. And at one point, maybe that was true. But definitely not anymore. Not for a while now. And Dick can’t let that show. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get a little more heated in this chapter!!

Dick hasn’t been avoiding Damian. _Of course_ not. Just like he hasn’t been responding to any of Damian’s texts or picking up his calls unless they’re to do with patrol or a matter of great urgency, all for a _completely_ valid reason.

It’s because he’s been busy, and he can’t afford to just drop everything and come to Damian straight away like he used to. And — Damian’s starting to grow up now. He needs to learn that Dick isn’t just at his beck and call, that Dick is a busy man who has _other_ people in his life that are important to him.

That maybe Damian needs to stop clinging onto Dick and branch out a little to, you know, _other people_ too. That _he_ isn’t the most important thing in Dick’s life, so he can’t get priority over everything and everyone else. 

God, if only that were _true_. If only Dick didn’t sound like the biggest hypocrite ever, telling Damian to stop thinking about him while he can’t do the same thing, no matter how hard he tries. 

See, Dick’s plan to avoid Damian until he felt like he could get both his dick and his feelings under control would’ve been perfect. He would’ve made sure that he wasn’t patrolling with Damian for a while, would’ve come up with a convenient excuse to stay in Blüdhaven instead of visiting the manor every week like he usually does to come and see Damian.

Hell, his plan could’ve been foolproof, if it wasn’t for _Bruce_. 

Bruce, who Dick has been pestering as soon as he found out that he’d been assigned the role of Robbie Malone, sleazy gangster and son of Matches Malone, on an undercover mission with Damian. Who is currently so _distracting_ that Dick’s just going to pretend he’s not there. 

“Bruce, come _on_ , why can’t someone else do this? I — Blüdhaven _needs_ me, what if something happens and I’m not there to do anything about it?” He’s getting desperate at this point, refusing to even face Damian, who’s getting his makeup touched up by Alfred. 

Bruce stands from in front of the computers and slowly turns to face Dick. Even without the cowl on, he’s still intimidating and Dick can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t about to budge.

“If Blüdhaven needs you so much, then why aren’t you there now? Why did you agree to come here when I called you?” Bruce asks in a dangerously low voice, face as blank as it always is just before he goes on patrol. Dick opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it, not able to find an excuse. 

“I don’t have the time for this, Nightwing. And neither do you or Robin,” Bruce grunts as he pulls the cowl on, now fully suited. The line of his jaw softens though as he steps forward and reaches out to straighten Dick’s tie up.

“Go to Agent A to get a last check done and then you’re free to go. Make sure to keep him updated on the comms,” Bruce growls before sweeping away with one last flourish of his cape, and then he’s gone. 

Dick’s hands fist at his sides as he stays facing away from Alfred and Damian under the guise of watching Bruce as he leaves. He glares down at his crotch, hoping his dick decides to behave today before reluctantly turning around.

His throat suddenly feels so very dry as he takes in Damian, who is stood so that his back is to Dick. Dick doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than having Damian looking at him. At least this way, Damian can’t see how turned on his big brother is by the sight of him in a tiny little crop top and a skirt so short that it barely covers his pert little ass, leaving his slim thighs completely bare other than the fishnets wrapped around them.

Dick swallows thickly as he stares at the tantalising little sliver of skin between the hem of Damian’s crop top and his skirt, imagines his hands wrapping around Damian’s skinny waist and leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in his soft skin. He imagines walking over and dropping to his knees to press an open mouthed kiss to it before flipping the back of Damian’s skirt up and — 

No. _No_.

God, Dick’s _disgusting_ , thinking of his little brother like that, who’s only dressed like this in the first place because it’ll make getting into the seedy club they’re infiltrating a lot easier, since the club owners have a soft spot for little boys who like to dress up. And Dick’s no better than them. No better than the men he and Damian are planning on apprehending. 

“Master Dick?” Alfred calls out as Damian turns to look at him, and Dick nearly falls over, casually leaning against Bruce’s chair and clinging to it to keep himself from dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Dick knows he’s staring but he can’t help himself from gawking at Damian all dolled up, concealer covering any visible scars. When Damian tilts his head a little, probably wondering why the fuck Dick won’t stop looking at him, glitter sparkles on his cheekbones and in his hair, even in the dim light of the cave.

Alfred tucks a stray lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, gives him a critical once over and then nods, seemingly satisfied with his work. “I’ll retrieve your earpieces and clips,” he says as he walks up to Dick, squeezing his shoulder in passing, but gently enough that he won’t crease the fabric of Dick’s suit jacket.

Dick barely even notices as Alfred sweeps past him, still fixated on Damian. He’s got a tube of lipstick in his hand, and Dick pictures him popping the lid off and delicately dabbing it all over his little mouth.

Pictures fucking his fingers into Damian’s red mouth until he’s gagging and Dick’s fingers are dripping with spit, pulling them out to see lipstick all over them. Pictures Damian on his knees, wet eyes rolling back in his head as Dick forces his cock down his throat and smears red down his chin. 

Dick forces himself to look away and curls his hands into fists until his nails are cutting into his palms, focusing on the pain instead of how fuckable Damian’s mouth looks.

“Well?” Dick looks up, startled to see Damian stood right in front of him, hands on his hips. This close, he can tell that Damian’s wearing eyeliner too, making his eyes look bigger and brighter, somehow even making his eyelashes look longer.

Dick’s gaze falls to the thin strap of black leather around Damian’s throat. It doesn’t register in his mind that Damian’s wearing a collar until he catches sight of the buckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets to hide how much they’re shaking, to hide how he _burns_ inside, aching to just _touch_.

“Yeah?” Dick says casually, almost wincing at how rough his voice sounds. But Damian doesn’t react, or at least he doesn’t _seem_ to, merely blinking at Dick twice before huffing and crossing his arms, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. And that gets Dick to notice that he’s wearing his Robin boots, which — doesn’t exactly help.

“Do I look the part?” Damian asks before lifting his arms up into the air and doing a little twirl for him, but that little spin is enough for his skirt to fly high enough that Dick manages to see black lace underneath it before Damian’s skirt flutters back down around his thighs.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out, bile burning in the back of his throat even as heat curls low in his gut, and he can’t tell if he feels more sick or aroused, watching as Damian’s red mouth curls into a secretive smile.

“Good,” he says, and he sounds immensely pleased. Alfred walks back up to him and clips the little camera onto his tie before grabbing Dick’s hand and curling the earpiece into it. Dick doesn’t even take notice of the weird look he’s given by Alfred, who barely refrains from rolling his eyes, sighing softly instead as he hands Damian’s earpiece to him as well.

Dick fumbles with his earpiece and puts it in, fingers trembling as Damian gives him one last smirk before turning to get into their car of choice tonight, one of Bruce’s expensive ones which is a little less flashy than usual because, you know, they’re not playing the role of the Wayne heirs tonight.

The ride to their destination is awkward, heavy with tension, and the only reason it’s not silent is because Damian has chosen to switch the radio on and is humming along, fiddling with the laces on his boots. Dick’s hands tighten around the steering wheel until it creaks as his eyes dart between Damian and the road ahead.

Damian keeps bouncing one of his legs, then alternating between crossing and uncrossing them, and with each movement, the bottom of his skirt rides higher up his thighs until it’s barely covering anything at all and Dick can see right up to his lacy black underwear.

He knows for a fact that Damian is doing it on purpose, because Damian never fiddles or fidgets when he’s bored or anxious, at least not so _obviously_. But that doesn’t stop him from reaching out to place a hand on Damian’s bare thigh, which suddenly stops moving and tenses up. Dick reluctantly pulls his hand back so he doesn’t accidentally end up moving it even further up Damian’s leg.

The rest of the journey to the club they’ll be investigating is completely void of any other distractions, but when Dick looks at him out of the corner of his eye, he can see that there’s a smug little smile on Damian’s face, which stays there until they reach the club.

Dick grabs Damian’s arm just before he opens the car door and is momentarily distracted by the fact that his hand wraps easily around the whole of Damian’s wrist, fingers overlapping, then shakes it off. “Robin, you need to be careful, okay?” He says, keeping his voice low so as not to be heard by anyone outside.

Damian scowls at him and then yanks his wrist out of Dick’s grip, rubbing it a little. Dick must’ve been holding it tighter than he thought. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone undercover,” he hisses, eyes narrowed.

“No, but we don’t want a repeat of what happened the first time,” Dick responds, raising an eyebrow as he remembers how badly they blew that mission.

The first time they went undercover together, someone touched Damian’s face and subsequently had their fingers broken. And then someone else groped him and Damian stomped on their foot with his heels. Unfortunately for them, the latter had been the club owner, and Dick and Damian were kicked out and the mission was left incomplete.

Damian flushes and glares at him, red lips pressed into a thin line. Dick wants to lean in and kiss that look right off his face, wants Damian to relax so he can fuck his tongue into Damian’s mouth.

“I know what I’m doing,” Damian snaps, and then he smirks as his eyes suddenly fall from Dick’s face to somewhere around the region of his crotch. “ _You_ arethe only one who seems to have a problem.”

Dick’s ears warm as he looks down at himself, and is relieved to see that the little brat was lying, because there are no signs of his attraction or how captivated he is by Damian other than his pulse racing and his heart pounding and the blood rushing through his body.

Dick looks back up at Damian to see him batting his long lashes at him as he pushes open the door and steps out, smoothing down his skirt. Dick closes his eyes and counts to ten before getting out himself and locking the door. He walks over to Damian and places a hand low on the exposed skin of his back, escorting him to the club doors.

The bouncer gives them a look and Dick offers him a not so friendly smile as he pulls a card out of his pocket and flips it over so the bouncer can see the glossy writing on the front of it. He sees the bouncer’s eyebrows rise over the rims of his shades at the name on the card, and just smiles even wider, baring his teeth.

“Matches’ boy, eh?” The bouncer says, seemingly surprised as he gives Dick a quick once over, body language softening a little as he turns to Damian and leers at him as Damian leans into Dick and bites his lip as he stares right back. “And who’s your little friend?”

“He’s mine,” is all Dick says, subtly tugging Damian closer to him. The bouncer just chuckles and moves aside to let them in, and as they walk past, Dick pulls the bottom of Damian’s skirt down a little further because he _knows_ that the bouncer was looking at his ass.

“Stop fussing,” Damian murmurs, clicking his tongue and lightly smacking Dick’s hand away. Dick takes them both to the private room at the back of the club, where the entrance is blocked by a large man who is easily at least twice his size. Dick flashes the card in his pocket again and is immediately granted access.

As soon as he steps into the room and the door clicks shut behind him, he switches the camera on under the guise of loosening his tie, and is greeted by several mobsters and thugs alike, all of whom give Damian lingering looks, even as Dick takes a seat and pulls Damian down into his lap so that he’s facing away from everyone.

He manages to get away with just making small talk and listening in on their conversations. He subtly tries asking about the crates of drugs which Bruce suspects will be arriving in Gotham within the next week or so, but they’re all frustratingly good at avoiding the subject.

Damian sighs into his neck and fiddles with the end of his tie, clearly bored and ready for some action. Dick resigns himself to sitting there and just listening to them all talk and then leaving in a little while to investigate further when he suddenly hears his name being said — well, his alias.

“What?” He says, acting as though he couldn’t be more disinterested. And then he realises that they’re all staring at Damian, and the looks they’re giving him make _Dick_ feel uncomfortable, so he can’t imagine how _Damian_ feels with their eyes burning into his back. Dick splays out one of his hands over Damian’s lower back, feeling him shiver as he places the other on Damian’s hip.

“He’s a pretty little thing that you brought here tonight. Wouldn’t mind havin’ a go with him after all this business is done,” one of them says as he licks his lips and leers at Damian, a lot closer to them than Dick initially remembers him being. He stinks of cheap alcohol and cigarettes, and it makes Dick’s nose burn. 

Dick watches, silently furious as his big hand lands on Damian’s thigh and squeezes hard enough for Damian’s breath to hitch against his throat. It has the audacity to travel even further until it’s underneath his skirt and Damian makes a small sound of discomfort into Dick’s skin, squirming in his lap.

Dick doesn’t even realise that he’s moving until his fingers are already curled around the man’s wrist and tugging his hand out from Damian’s skirt, pushing it back into his own lap. The man looks shocked and a little angry, and so is Dick, so he plays it off by laughing softly and squeezing Damian’s thigh just under the swell of his ass, letting his hand linger for a moment before returning it to its place on the curve of Damian’s waist.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he jokes, relieved when the majority of the men in the room start to laugh, but the thing is, he’s _not_ joking. If he were on patrol, or hell, anywhere other than an undercover mission which would end up being disastrous if he blew his cover by doing so, he’d break this creep’s fingers for even daring to _think_ of Damian in that way, let alone feel him up when Dick’s _right there_.

“Possessive, huh?” The man asks, smirking. Dick wants to break his teeth. “Must have a pretty tight ass if you’re acting like this whenever someone so much as _touches_ him.”

Damian flushes bright red; Dick can feel his cheeks heating up, but his own blood is boiling with anger. He thinks about swinging at this asshole, about bloodying his nose and punching him in the face enough times that he knows to never make a comment about Damian like that _ever again_ , but Damian’s warm weight in his lap reminds him that that probably isn’t a good idea.

Dick inhales deeply through his nose and puts a filthy smile on his face as he digs his fingers into Damian’s hips, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that he can taste blood when Damian wriggles on top of him. “He’s not a part of any of this,” Dick explains, stroking Damian’s lower back, and he can feel goosebumps rising over his skin. “And he’s good for me, so I’m good to him.”

“That’s a real shame,” the man says, leaning back, and Dick feels like he can finally breathe without wanting to _throttle_ him for even implying that Dick give Damian up to him. “He would’ve been a nice prize for having to sit through all of this talking.”

Dick nearly stands up to do something, but Damian’s thighs squeeze around his hips as he digs his fingers into Dick’s shoulder and noses at his jaw, lips brushing the side of his neck, reminding him to stay calm.

Dick sits through another couple of minutes of useless conversation before making an excuse to leave, pulling Damian up with him. All of the mobsters jeer at them as they go, and Dick leaves a tiny camera behind on the handle of the door as he closes it behind himself.

As soon as they’re clear of the room, Damian whirls around and glares at him, hands on his hips as he shakes his head. His hair is a little ruffled from being pressed up against Dick’s shoulder, and Dick only wants to mess it up even more. “If you don’t keep your jealousy under control, you’re going to blow our cover,” Damian hisses under his breath as he takes Dick’s hand and tugs him back to the dance floor.

“ _Jealousy?_ ” Dick splutters. He’s not _jealous_. Why would he be jealous? He’s angry that someone was touching Damian so inappropriately, that their hands were on his skin even though he was sat in Dick’s lap, that they were propositioning Damian even though he was clearly _Dick’s_ , at least according to their cover, and — _oh._

Dick _is_ jealous. _Fuck_.

Damian gives him a knowing look and then suddenly stops moving, letting go of Dick’s hand. Dick suddenly feels strange, immediately missing the warmth of Damian’s fingers curled into his.

“Stay here and look like you’re actually _doing_ something,” Damian says, turning to leave him. Dick reaches out to grab his wrist and stop him from going.

“Where are you going?”

Damian’s mouth curves into a sly smile, eyes twinkling as the strobe lights suddenly shine onto his face, cheekbones glittering. “To mingle,” he says, and then walks away with a deliberate sway of his hips.

Dick stares after him until he disappears into the crowd of people dancing, then makes his way up to the bar to order himself a drink, finding a seat where he’s got the perfect view of Damian chatting up some guy who’s got his hand on Damian’s face, tilting it up and then leaning in as if he’s about to kiss him.

Dick’s nails scratch into the bar top as he watches Damian place a hand on the guy’s chest, leaning into him and _giggling_. He’s suddenly distracted by the bartender bringing him his drink, so turns to take it and thanks her, then looks back at them, noticing that the hand which was previously on Damian’s face is now on his ass.

The glass cracks to pieces in his hand, shattering all over the countertop and sending his drink all over his trousers, which are thankfully black, so the stain isn’t that noticeable. It’s only when he feels a sharp pain in his hand that he looks down at the mess he’s made and sees blood dripping from a small gash in his hand.

Dick glances up at the bartender, who looks startled and slightly concerned by the pool of blood on the countertop. “It’s okay,” he reassures her with a smile as he tries to mop up some of the spilt drink with a few tissues. “I just have a very firm grip. Sorry about the mess.”

The bartender blinks at him and then shakes her head and sighs, then offers him a clean rag to tie around his wounded hand before picking up a dustpan and brush from behind the bar to clean up the glass. Dick apologises again and then turns just in time to see Damian go up on the tips of his toes to press a kiss to the guy’s cheek before making his way over to Dick.

Dick stands up and meets him halfway, then follows him out through another door into a quiet hallway. “I bribed that idiot into telling me where the club owner’s office is, and — what happened to your hand? And did you spill something on your trousers?” Damian says, frowning as he notices the blood starting to seep through Dick’s makeshift bandage.

“It’s nothing. Just a little accident,” Dick tells him.

Damian gives him a suspicious look but lets him off, leading him to an old wooden door where he crouches and presses his ear to the door to make sure nobody’s there before picking the lock and pulling Dick in behind him before closing the door. He pushes his hair back out of his eyes and makes a face when he gets glitter all over his hands, then looks back up at Dick.

“We might be able to find proof of the drugs being traded or even where they’ll be arriving in here. You do that side,” Damian says, then vaguely gestures at something on the other side of the room as he pulls some disposable gloves on and starts to pick things up off the desk in front of him.

Dick clears his throat and tries his best to focus, pulling on his own gloves and starting pull books out of their places from the bookshelf, to feel the walls for any grooves or irregularities, any parts that might be hollow. He doesn’t find anything there so he moves on to the little box in the corner of the office, pulling out random items of clothing along with the occasional packets of lube and unused condoms.

It seems like this is where the club owner has most of his fun, and Dick winces as he looks over to Damian, who’s still sorting through the drawers of the desk in the middle of the office. He doesn’t want to imagine how many people have had sex on top of that.

Dick walks over to the desk to help Damian, who’s mumbling to himself as he yanks open another drawer and takes everything out of it, a victorious smile lighting up his face when he finds the false bottom and carefully removes a crumpled piece of lined paper from it.

Damian straightens out the piece of paper as he stands up and reads the writing on it, completely focused, but he’s the first one to notice the sound of someone laughing and chattering coming closer. His eyes dart to Dick, who peels his gloves off and puts them in his pocket along with Damian’s, then quickly looks around for an exit.

There isn’t one other than the door they came through in the first place, so it looks like they’re going to have to fight their way out. Dick searches for a weapon of some sort, considers using the lamp on the desk or a book to swing at whoever they’re going to be facing, and then Damian exhales loudly and grabs the front of his shirt, hoping up onto the desk and pulling him in close.

“Pretend you’re a little drunk and just play along,” Damian whispers urgently, then cups Dick’s face in his hands and leans in, eyes fluttering closed as he kisses him. Dick jerks and gasps against his mouth, almost pulling away from him, but Damian makes a small sound in the back of his throat and spreads his legs to wrap them around Dick’s hips, one of his hands curling into the hair on the nape of Dick’s neck, and Dick has no choice but to give in.

Dick uncurls his fingers from the death grip they had on the edge of the desk to slide one hand around to Damian’s back, fingers caressing the skin just below the hem of his crop top while the other spreads out over his thigh, shaking as it slips underneath his skirt and teases at the edge of his underwear, soft and delicate against Damian’s skin.

Damian is endearingly uncertain with the way he kisses, slow and a little unsure as he shivers when Dick sucks on his bottom lip and coaxes his mouth open with his tongue, legs tightening around Dick’s waist. His mouth is small and warm and soft and wet, and Dick can taste the waxy lipstick painted onto it when he grazes his teeth and tongue over Damian’s lower lip.

Damian’s hand slides down over his chest, fingers digging into his back, and for a moment, Dick finds himself wishing he wasn’t wearing his shirt so he could feel Damian’s calluses catching on his scarred skin. The voices outside the door get louder, and Dick shifts a little so he’s hiding as much of Damian as he can when the door suddenly swings open, banging against the wall.

Dick reluctantly breaks away from Damian’s mouth, and they’re both panting as Dick turns to look over his shoulder at the two men standing in the doorway, pretending he’s surprised. “Sorry, this one was gettin’ a little desperate,” he slurs, lifting one of his hands to hold Damian’s face still as he gently pushes a thumb into his red mouth, watching hungrily as Damian sucks on it with a muffled groan.

He looks back at the men, and one of them is just staring, mouth opening and closing like he’s just as transfixed by Damian as Dick is — which just isn’t _possible_ — and the other swallows thickly before speaking, eyes wide and dark. “This is the boss’s office,” he mumbles, quietly enough that Dick can barely even hear him. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Dick raises an eyebrow at him and pulls his thumb out of Damian’s mouth with a pop, then wraps his hands around Damian’s waist, a lot smaller than he expected, and lifts him up off the desk, turning around again to set him down on the floor before trying to smooth his hair down.

Dick can’t imagine what he looks like. He probably has lipstick smeared all over his mouth and glitter on his face and in his messy hair from Damian’s hands and face. He wipes the back of his hand over his lips and smirks at them before pressing a hand to Damian’s back and gently pushing towards the door.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says to Damian, who bats his lashes up at the men before turning to him with an expectant look on his face. “Don’t want to be getting into any trouble with these guys, do we?”

They step through the doorway together, and then Dick stops to look at the men, smiling even as his eyes harden and he steels his jaw. “And one more thing. _No one_ tells me what I can and can’t do.” The men look like they’re about to pee themselves. “I’m a _Malone_. I do whatever the hell I want.”

And with that, they leave through the back entrance of the club, make their way through some dark alleys and back to the car they came in. Now that they’re not in the club anymore, Dick feels awkward.

They’re not playing any roles anymore, and the mission is complete, so they’re not Nightwing and Robin either. They’re _Dick and Damian_ , who just kissed on an undercover mission. Dick can feel himself flushing just thinking about it.

When he glances over at Damian as he starts the car, he doesn’t seem too bothered, and is just staring out of the window. But Dick can see his reflection, which shows a pensive look on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but decides against it, and the rest of the ride back to the manor is spent in silence.

As Damian reaches out to open the car door once they’re finally back at the cave, Dick grabs his arm. He turns, and Dick can’t read the look in his eyes, but speaks anyway. “I — good job today,” he chokes out, voice strained.

Damian blinks, and then a barely there smile appears on his face, curving his mouth slightly. “I suppose I could say the same thing to you,” he teases, eyes glittering with mirth. “And you were wrong earlier.”

Dick frowns at him, confused. Damian rolls his eyes. “That night on patrol, when you were taking too long to drink your milkshake.” Dick’s ears burn at the memory of nearly _falling off a rooftop_ because he was so shocked by the thought of Damian trying to kiss him.

He looks at Damian, whose smile widens to reveal the dimple in his cheek, but now it seems a little shy, embarrassed even. “Sometimes first kisses _can_ be perfect. Depending upon whom you share them with.”

Dick’s breath hitches, voice stuck in his throat as Damian’s smile softens and he hesitates a little before leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Richard,” he murmurs as he opens the door and steps out of the car, gently closing it behind himself.

Dick swallows thickly and tries to stop his hands from shaking as he follows suit and greets Alfred, who’s stood by the computers. Damian’s already out of sight and probably in the shower, his club clothes in a neat pile on a bench.

Dick forces himself to refrain from following that line of thought, to not think about Damian wet and naked as water streams down his back. If only he’d actually managed to stick to _thinking_ about Damian instead of acting on his desires.

It was manageable until now. Occasionally — often — Dick had _thoughts_ about Damian, bad thoughts which he shouldn’t have had in the first place, but at least no one knew about them. At least they weren’t affecting anyone other than him.

But now he’s _kissed_ Damian. He’s felt his soft skin underneath his palms and has heard all the sounds he makes when he’s being kissed senseless. Maybe he could repress his thoughts. But kissing Damian was crossing a line. Kissing him is something Dick _can’t_ take back. And he’s unsure whether he’s dreading or looking forward to whatever Damian has in line for him next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next update brings the last chapter, so please wait patiently :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is where the rating comes in. last chapter people, hope you enjoy!

It’s been three days since they kissed, and Dick certainly isn’t expecting to come out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist to find Damian lounging on his bed. Dick freezes, fingers curling around the knot in his towel like that will somehow preserve his modesty as Damian looks up from his phone to see him and scowls, looking like a furious little thundercloud.

Damian stands and marches towards him, and for one heart-wrenching moment, Dick thinks he’s going to be kissed again. But Damian walks right past him to his underwear drawer, where he fishes out a pair of black boxers and throws them over his shoulder at Dick before moving to block the exit and then turning again to face him.

“Damian, what are you doing here?” Dick starts, unsure of what to say. “Aren’t you —”

“Put these on and sit down, then shut your mouth,” Damian snaps, cutting him off. Dick gapes at him, shocked. “You have done _more_ than enough talking, so now it is _my_ turn.”

Dick does as he’s told and sits on the edge of his bed, muscles tense. And then Damian starts pulling his clothes off, tugging his top off over his head, starting to tug his trousers down, and Dick is at a loss for words.

“ _Why_ are you taking your clothes off?” Dick squeaks, but Damian just gives him a look and carries on stripping until he’s down to nothing but some tiny green shorts which could pass as underwear.

“Are you attracted to me?” Damian asks, voice firm and steady as he puts his hands on his hips and glares at Dick.

“ _What?_ ” Dick chokes out, voice a lot higher pitched than usual.

“Answer the question, fool,” Damian demands, clearly very serious.

“I’m not answering that question,” he splutters even as his eyes fall to Damian’s chest and linger on his legs, but all Damian does is roll his eyes and cross his arms as he cocks a hip.

“Fine, _don’t_ answer me then,” Damian huffs. “I can already see it in your eyes that you are, which is why I don’t understand what your reasoning is behind not acting on it.”

“Damian, I — us _kissing_ was bad enough, and now you’re telling me that you want to do _more?_ ” Dick exclaims, grasping the sheets so he doesn’t reach for Damian to pull him into his lap again.

“It’s only the logical next step to our relationship,” Damian says, frowning as he moves closer, and then his face smooths out as his lips part, and his mouth is _right there_ for Dick to kiss again but he won’t. He _can’t_.

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“How can you be so obtuse?” Damian growls, scowling again as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, then his eyes flutter open again, and he looks determined, like he’s going to get what he wants, consequences be damned.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, and Dick’s brain short circuits as his cock twitches in his boxers, and he’s pretty sure Damian saw it, going by the smirk on his face.

“No,” Dick blurts, and his voice must have been louder than he thought, because Damian actually flinches away from him, hurt flashing across his face. His arms shift, and it looks more like he’s hugging himself now than crossing his arms.

“What do you mean, _no?_ ” Damian asks, and his voice is shaking a little. Dick wants to hug him.

“Damian, you don’t —“ Dick cuts himself off, raking a hand through his hair as he looks up at Damian, who has managed to school his expression into something a little less hurt and a little more blank. 

“You are one of the most important people in the world to me,” Dick sighs, closing his eyes. “And I know that I’ve gained your trust. I can’t afford to ruin our relationship or break your trust because I’m deciding to act like — like a hormonal teenager, okay? If I ever hurt you, even if it was by accident, I would  _never_ be able to forgive myself.”

“Grayson.” Dick opens his eyes to look at Damian, who’s glaring down at him, arms crossed. “You know very well that I loathe people treating me like I’m an idiot.” 

Dick blinks, then nods slowly, almost hesitantly. “Then  _why_ do you insist on treating me as such?” Damian demands, scowling. 

“What?”

“I know that the way you feel about me, the way I  _know_ you have felt for me for quite some time now, it cannot  _possibly_ be attributed to lust alone,” Damian says quietly, cheeks red, but his voice is firm, steady, unwavering. 

“ _Exactly_ ,” Dick replies, and his own voice is trembling, so unlike Damian’s. “Damian, you’re only proving my point. If you know how much I care for you, how much I  _love_ you, then you should also know that I can never,  _ever_ touch you like that, or even let myself  _think of you_ in that way.”

Damian looks almost  _hurt_ , then offended, and then his face smooths out, the only sign that he’s still paying any attention to Dick being the slight frown on his face. 

“Tt. Coward,” he accuses, and he’s right, but Dick still wants to kiss the little pout right off his face. 

Dick sighs and lies back on his bed, throwing an arm over his face so he doesn’t have to see Damian anymore, even if he can still hear his breathing and feel his presence in the room. 

“I think you should go now. It’s getting late, and I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.” And yet, he has to curl his fingers into the sheets so he doesn’t reach out to pull Damian into his arms to stop him from leaving. 

There’s complete silence for a moment, and then Damian moves forward, so quickly that Dick doesn’t even see it coming when he climbs onto the bed and straddles his stomach. Dick’s breath catches in his throat as Damian shifts before settling his weight with his knees on either side of Dick’s hips. 

Damian calmly curls his fingers around Dick’s wrists and drags his hands away from the bed, setting one on his upper thigh and the other onhis waist so that Dick’s fingers can span out over Damian’s ribs. 

“Touch me,” Damian whispers, biting his bottom lip with a heated look in his eyes. Dick slowly starts to shake his head, pulling his hands back, but Damian’s fingers squeeze his wrists to keep them in place. 

“Damian, we can’t,” Dick still tries to reason with him, half of him hoping that he’s hallucinating or having a dream, just so that Bruce won’t end up breaking his no killing rule, while the other half of him itches to caress the dip of Damian’s waist, to taste the salt on Damian’s warm skin, to press his nose into Damian’s neck and smell the mixed scents of honey and lavender and raw spice that is all  _Damian_. 

Damian cuts his plea off with a frustrated little huff, leaning forward so that their noses touch. “For fuck’s sake, Grayson, I’m not getting into another argument with you about this,” Damian growls, and then he sits back and rolls his hips into Dick’s with a sly curl to his lips. “Not when we could be doing better things.”

He looks just a little embarrassed, with red ears and pink cheeks and refuses to meet Dick’s eyes. Keeps staring at something slightly to the left of Dick’s face instead. 

But then his chin tilts up and defiance shines in his eyes as he finally turns to Dick, fingers tightening around his wrists as he makes eye contact. He’s being stubborn and infuriatingly insistent, and yet, Dick wouldn’t want him any other way. 

“Touch me, Grayson,” he repeats in a voice softer than Dick would have imagined Damian ever even being capable of. His cock actually twitches at the sound of it, velvety and  _oh so tempting_ and perfectly capable of bringing him to his knees. 

_Fuck_. Dick is gonna  _die_. Bruce is actually going to  _murder_ him.

Well — that’s if Damian doesn’t end him first. He briefly wonders if it’s possible to die of a lengthy case of blue balls, or of excessively masturbating as a pastime. 

Dick tentatively lifts his hand from Damian’s thigh, waiting to see if Damian will yank his wrist back down, and when he doesn’t, cups Damian’s jaw and thumbs over his lips. Damian nips at the tip of his thumb before pressing a wet kiss to it, and then licking the pads of his fingers. 

Dick tries to speak, tries to stop everything that’s happening before it ends up going even further than it already has, but finds that he can’t, his voice stuck in his throat as he watches Damian’s wet lips stretch indecently around two of his fingers as he sucks them into his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste them. 

Dick curses softly under his breath when Damian groans wantonly around his fingers, his hand wrapping around Damian’s hip to hold him in place when he jerks forward in an attempt to get some friction against Dick’s bare stomach. 

Damian’s breathing more heavily by the time Dick is slowly pulling his wet fingers out of his mouth, and Dick is transfixed by the sight of Damian’s swollen lips and the pretty pink flush rising to his cheeks as he continues to grind into Dick’s lap. 

“Honestly, I fail to see what the issue is, Grayson.” 

Dick chokes on his own spit when Damian presses the heel of his hand against his erection, palming him through his boxers. “You are not unaffected,” he says leisurely, but Dick can see satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he watches Dick squirm underneath him. 

“And neither am I.” 

And then Damian lifts Dick’s hand, the one he’d been casually licking just seconds ago, and presses it between his own legs. Dick’s spit-slick fingers twitch as his mouth suddenly dries up. 

Damian is so  _wet_. 

He’s so damn wet that he’s managed to soak through his shorts  _and_ underwear, and that’s if he’s even  _wearing_ any — if Dick finds out that he’s only wearing this tiny little scrap of fabric that could very well pass for booty shorts (hell, it could probably even pass for  _Robin-style scaly green panties_ — or maybe that’s just Dick being narcissistic), he will blow his load, right here, right now. 

Dick can’t deal. He’s a little confused, a little disbelieving and ridiculous amounts of turned on. So he asks the question — he has to know. 

“Are you wearing any...”

His voice suddenly becomes quiet as he trails off, face heating up at the thought of even  asking Damian such a question, let alone getting an answer to it. 

“Any what?” Damian asks as he raises a seemingly unimpressed eyebrow, forcing Dick to swallow past the dryness in his throat as he watches Damian scrape his nails down over his own chest, tweaking his nipples. 

“Underwear. Are you wearing any underwear?” Dick blurts out, heart hammering madly in his chest as a grin makes its way onto Damian’s face, all pearly white teeth and dimples, and it’s the sharp-edged smile of an angel on the face of a little fucking devil. 

“No.”

_Fuck_.

Dick has to shove his free hand down his boxers and squeeze tightly around the base of his cock with closed eyes to try and stave off his impending orgasm. He ignores the sound of Damian snickering above him in favour of making an attempt to slow his breathing so that it can come back down to a somewhat regular pace. 

Dick doesn’t think he can hold himself back now, and Damian said it himself — they both want this. And... Damian has always acted a lot older than his age. He just can’t help but feel that he’s still taking advantage of Damian. 

He wants to do this, he wants Damian  so _badly_ , and Damian seems to somewhat reciprocate his feelings, so surely it isn’t all that bad. Surely there’s nothing wrong with it it if they’re both consenting, right?

And if at some point, Damian says no, he’ll stop immediately and make sure that they’re both fine. 

Yes, it might get awkward after that and Damian may decide he doesn’t want to even talk to Dick anymore, and yes, Dick will be  _heartbroken_ if that happens, but that’s an issue for the Dick of tomorrow to resolve.

When he finally thinks he can control his emotions and isn’t about to come in his pants like a teenager, Dick pulls his hand out from his boxers, places his hands on Damian’s hips, and flips them so that he’s looming over a surprised looking Damian, whose back is pressed to the sheets. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, suddenly unable to hold himself back from voicing his adoration of the beautiful, stubborn little spitfire sprawled out on the bed beneath him. 

Dick settles on his stomach between Damian’s legs and rests a palm on his upper thigh, watching his fingers trace over a thin, jagged scar which cuts from just under Damian’s knee to around mid thigh. “Can’t believe you’re even real sometimes.”

He glances up at Damian, who’s staring down at him with cautious eyes, his fingers twisting in the sheets so tightly that his knuckles are slowly turning white. He’s nervous, even after putting on that display to get Dick to touch him, and it’s heartbreakingly adorable. 

“Hey,” Dick says quietly, a soft smile on his face as he gently uncurls Damian’s fingers so that he can hold his hands. “You don’t have to do this, you know? We can stop right now. Just say the word.”

Dick watches Damian’s face as apprehension flashes in his eyes, slowly sitting up on his knees so he can brush a gentle kiss over Damian’s nose and then the corner of his mouth. He plans to pull away then, but Damian drapes his lean thighs over his hips, kissing him with his hand curling into Dick’s damp hair. 

Dick tries to move away, but Damian’s fingers tighten in his hair and his heels dig into Dick’s lower back, so Dick succumbs to Damian’s grabby hands and his warm, persistent mouth. 

It’s only when Damian sighs softly against his mouth that Dick reluctantly breaks away from his lips, glancing down past his flushed face and then groaning into his neck once he finally notices that Damian’s been rubbing himself through his shorts.

Damian’s hips buck up when Dick covers his hand with his own and drags it up to his head, pinning his wrist to the bed. Damian lets out a frustrated little huff, scowling at Dick as his other wrist is pinned down. 

“Why, Grayson, do you insist on  _torturing_ me like this?” Damian growls, glaring up at him with his bottom lip jutting out just enough that it could be considered a pout. 

“Damian, don’t be so dramatic,” Dick says, rolling his eyes as Damian scoffs at him. “And I’m not torturing you, I’m just making sure you want this.”

“Of course I want it.” He shifts so that he can sit up in Dick’s lap, legs still spread out as he sets his hands on Dick’s shoulders. 

“Do you really think your hands would still be attached to your body if you were touching me without my consent?” Damian asks with one of his eyebrows raised, something dangerous sparkling in his eyes for a moment. 

“No,” Dick replies truthfully after a few seconds have passed without either of them saying anything, feeling a little relieved for some reason when all Damian does is roll his eyes. 

“I’m assuming you want to do this as well, correct?” Damian says, sounding confident, but Dick can see his jaw clenching, as though he’s steeling himself for being rejected, even after kissing Dick, even after his kiss being reciprocated, even after touching Dick’s hard-on, which is still straining in his tented boxers. 

And — it’s strange, seeing Damian nervous. He’s always so confident, so unabashedly himself, that the boy sat in Dick’s lap would seem like a stranger to him, if not for the fact that he _knows_ Damian. Has known him for years now. He knows that Damian thrives on feeling accepted for who he is. He soaks up praise like a flower blooming in the sunlight. And Dick can’t blame him. 

So instead of answering Damian’s statement-turned-question, Dick hooks an arm around his waist, turns Damian’s face to his with a gentle hand to his cheek, and kisses him until he’s melting into Dick’s embrace, wrapping his arms around Dick’s neck. 

Dick knows it’s an overused metaphor, he knows it’s sappy and cheesy, and fuck, Damian would  _slaughter_ him if he knew Dick was using it to describe him, but Damian’s like a rose. Gorgeous yet deadly. 

He’s dangerous and vicious and Dick has already pricked himself far too many times for his liking, but once he got past Damian’s defences, once he was able to creep through the wall of thorns surrounding Damian’s sheltered heart, he saw something beautiful. 

He saw that Damian could be soft and sweet, he could be open and vulnerable like he is now as he writhes in Dick’s lap and keens into his mouth while Dick tugs at his hair and gently rubs two fingers over his clit. 

“In. Put them in me,” Damian demands softly, wriggling in his lap as he digs his nails into the back of Dick’s neck. He’s so breathtaking like this, all needy and all  _his_ , that Dick can’t help but want to preserve the image of him like this somehow so that he’ll be able to see it over and over again, so he can remember the effect he has on Damian. 

Manoeuvring them so that he can drag Damian’s soaked shorts down his legs and toss them off to one side, Dick moves his hand from Damian’s hair to his hip, presses a wet kiss to his neck and for a moment, the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathing and an obscenely wet squelch as he carefully slides a finger into Damian. 

Within seconds, Damian is squirming in his lap, whining for more as he clenches around the finger already inside him, and shit, Dick wants to take this slow, he wants to cherish Damian, to _worship_ his body, but Damian is so hot inside — so slick, he’s practically  _dripping_ — that it’s almost too easy to slide another two fingers into him, to watch him and wonder how he would react to Dick tasting him if he’s already gotten so worked up over a few fingers. 

Dick presses soft little kisses against the jut of Damian’s collarbone and continues lower until he’s not sure whether Damian will allow him to, so he looks up at him. 

Damian stares back down at him with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, but instead of saying anything, he manages to scoff disdainfully, even with three of Dick’s fingers fucking into him, and twists his fingers tightly in Dick’s hair, yanking him forwards until his forehead bumps into Damian’s chest. 

Dick chuckles against his warm skin, just  _happy_ that Damian’s letting him do this, smile widening when he feels Damian shiver. He first kisses the spot on Damian’s chest right over his heart, which is fluttering like the rapid beat of a bird’s wings, then repeatedly flicks his tongue over one of his nipples, scraping his teeth over it until he can hear Damian whimpering into his hair. 

“You’re so beautiful, Dami,” Dick murmurs into the hollow of his neck, relishing the feeling of Damian’s pulse hammering against his lips as he digs his fingers into the swell of Damian’s ass to pull him closer. 

“Shut up, Grayson,” Damian gasps before scratching his nails down Dick’s back, making him hiss. But that doesn’t deter Dick. 

“It’s the truth,” Dick says honestly, placing a hand on Damian’s reddening cheek in an attempt to get him to meet his eyes, but Damian keeps averting his gaze. 

So Dick kisses him again, tries to show him the sincerity behind his words, muffling the needy little whine Damian lets out with his mouth as Dick carefully pulls his fingers out of him and starts to rub his clit instead. 

“I can make you come like this if you want,” Dick says casually, as though he’s completely unaffected, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

He could probably come from the sounds Damian makes, let alone the way he looks as he gets fingered by Dick, all flushed cheeks and bitten lips and glassy eyes. He could do this forever, just watching Damian writhing in pleasure beneath his touch. 

“Or...” 

Dick stops moving his fingers and rolls them over so that Damian’s flat on his back, shuffling back down between his legs, biting back a smile when Damian gasps and bites down on his lower lip as Dick sucks marks into his thighs, scrapes his teeth over Damian’s hips, presses soft kisses to his stomach, completely avoiding where he knows Damian wants him to go, even though Damian might not know it himself.

“I’d like to get my mouth on you. If you’ll let me.” Dick thumbs gently over Damian’s clit so he knows what that entails, no longer able to hide his grin when Damian’s face floods with colour and he chokes on his own breath. 

“What on  _earth_ would make you —  _why_ would you want to do  _that?_ ”  Damian asks, looking adorably scandalised as a pretty pink blush spreads down his neck and chest, and  _God_ , Dick wants to touch it, to kiss it, to feel the heat radiating from Damian’s body on his tongue, beneath his fingertips, around his cock. 

“Because you’re gorgeous and I want to make you feel good.” 

Damian blinks at him. 

“Can I?” 

Damian nods hesitantly, watching with wide jade eyes as Dick takes hold of one of his hands and presses a kiss to his palm, holding it to his mouth as he kisses his fingertips too. 

“Good boy.” Dick doesn’t think he’s ever seen Damian blush harder. And then he presses a kiss to Damian’s inner thigh before spreading him open and licking up his slit. 

Damian’s hips jerk, his thighs tightening almost painfully around Dick’s head as he inhales sharply. “Grayson,” he chokes out, hands twisting in Dick’s hair as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

Dick tries to massage his fingers in little circles on the soft skin of Damian’s thighs, attempting to relax him, but that only seems to make him tense up even more. 

“Dami, stop tensing up so much,” Dick murmurs into his skin, pressing a kiss to his hip before looking back up at him with soft eyes. “You know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought you wouldn’t like, right?”

Damian stares down at him, looking a little uncertain. Dick sighs fondly, a small smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “You trust me, don’t you?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Of course,” Damian responds without a moment’s hesitation, and it makes Dick’s grin widen. 

“Then trust me on this, okay? I promise you that you’ll like it.” Damian narrows his eyes, so Dick continues. “I’m good at this, I swear.”

“Bragging is nowhere near as attractive as you might think it is, Grayson,” Damian snarls, but bites his lip and then spreads his legs again, letting Dick settle comfortably in the space between his thighs. 

Dick presses wet kisses to his inner thighs and noses at the little curve to his stomach, spreading his legs wider to admire his puffy pussy, tracing his thumb over the rosy, wet folds before pushing it in, met with barely any resistance.

Dick looks up at Damian once more, barely managing to bite back a smile when he sees the impatience clear as anything on Damian’s face, then presses the gentlest of kisses to his swollen little clit, stroking over his thighs before easing his thumb out and licking into him with light, deft strokes of his tongue.

Damian gasps softly, and Dick slides his hands underneath his hips to tilt them upwards, encouraging Damian to grind forward against his face. His hands are gentler in Dick’s hair now, petting it and guiding Dick’s head rather than trying to yank it out as he starts to roll his hips in time with the movement of Dick’s tongue.

It’s just so _easy_ to slide two fingers into his pussy as Dick sucks on his clit, slick and messy and so very needy. Damian hooks a slim leg around Dick’s neck and slings the other over his shoulder, adjusts the grip on his hair to push Dick’s face further into his cunt as he comes with a low moan that almost sounds like it’s been surprised out of him, hips rocking against Dick’s face.  


Dick peppers kisses over his thighs as Damian tries to regulate his breathing, licks his lips and sucks on his fingers to get rid of the slick shining on them. He glances up as he lowers Damian’s legs back down onto the bed to see him watching with dark, hazy eyes, and then there are suddenly hands pawing at his boxers and groping at his aching cock.

Dick is shocked enough by how eager Damian is to touch him that he just lets him pull the boxers down over his legs and absentmindedly kicks them off when they pool around his ankles. It’s only when Damian’s small, calloused fingers wrap around him that he finally reacts, gently pulling his hand away.

“Damian, you don’t need to do anything else, okay?” He says, even though just those few seconds of contact felt so good. “We don’t need to go all the way, and I’ll be just fine like this. It’ll go away soon,” Dick lies, and Damian sees right through him like he always does.

“Grayson, stop it,” Damian growls, slamming Dick onto his back again and straddling his hips. “I  _want_ this. I have wanted this since you were my Batman and I was your Robin, and I do not wish to wait any longer. So stop doubting me.”

Dick’s mouth feels dry as he reaches up to brush his fingers over Damian’s cheek, holding his jaw and leaning up a little to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. 

“I would never doubt you,” he says, watching Damian’s face soften as his mouth goes slack when Dick finally gentles the grip on his hips to grind up against him. “And you’re still  _my_ Robin. You’ll  _always_ be my Robin.”

Damian’s lips twitch into a faint smile as he sits up on his knees and takes Dick’s cock into his hand, rubbing it over his cunt before finally stilling and biting his lip as the head pops in, then slowly sinking down. 

Dick’s hands stroke over his thighs as his cock inches further inside Damian’s cunt, wet and tight, molten heat. Damian stops halfway, panting as he throws his head back, a flush spreading down his neck and chest as he lets out a broken little whimper.

Damian circles his hips and Dick’s fingers dig into his waist, his own mouth hanging open as he forces himself to not just thrust up and  _make_ Damian take it. “It’s okay, Dami,” he hears himself saying, and he sounds breathless, in awe. “You’re almost there, baby. Taking me so well.”

“Not — not a baby,” Damian breathes out as his head falls forward onto Dick’s shoulder once he’s fully seated on his cock, nails scraping over Dick’s chest. 

“You’re  _my_ baby,” Dick says into his hair, rubbing circles into his skin. Damian makes a sound of agreement into the side of his neck, starting to mouth at his jaw. 

“So full,” Damian whines, and Dick turns his head to kiss him, swallowing all the sounds Damian makes as he slowly rises and then sinks back down, gently encouraging him to grind down with the hands on his hips. 

“You’re bigger than I’d expected,” Damian pants against his throat, breath stuttering as Dick’s fingers bump into his swollen clit. “Fill me up better than my fingers do.” 

Dick groans at the imagery and can’t stop his hips from jerking up, suddenly remembering that night at the club with Damian in his tiny little skirt and fishnets. He imagines Damian’s hand going underneath his skirt and slipping into his soaked panties, imagines the slick, wet sounds of Damian fingering himself. 

He imagines Damian lying on his bed in the manor, face wet with tears because his fingers are neither long nor thick enough to properly fill his greedy little pussy. Imagines walking in on him and replacing Damian’s fingers with his own, fucking him relentlessly until he’s drooling onto his pillow. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the stroke to my ego,” Dick laughs breathlessly, sliding his hands around to Damian’s ass to guide his movements. “But I’ve seen bigger than me.”

Damian huffs and tugs at his hair. “I don’t need to hear about your previous conquests while you’re literally  _inside me_ , Grayson,” he complains, gasping when Dick rolls them over and pushes his thighs back against his chest, fucking even deeper into him. 

“I wasn’t talking about any previous conquests, I was talking about your _dad_ ,” Dick explains, pinning Damian’s wrists to the bed and then twining their fingers together as he bites at Damian’s jaw. “Walked in on him in the shower once and got an eyeful.”

“I might be new to this, but even  _I_ know that discussing family members or friends during intercourse is considered to be bad etiquette,” Damian groans, and he looks a little disgusted. 

Dick can’t hold back his laughter and stops thrusting to roll his hips instead, grinding against Damian’s sweet spot until his lashes are quivering, leaning in to sink his teeth into the swell of Damian’s bottom lip and swallowing his low moan. 

“Grayson,  _please_ ,” Damian begs, legs tightening around his waist, and Dick knows exactly what he wants, letting go of one of Damian’s hands to slide his fingers down his stomach, groaning into his mouth when Damian lets out a relieved sob as Dick licks his thumb and then rubs at his clit. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Dick grunts, hips jerking in short little thrusts into Damian’s wet cunt. “Tell me, beautiful. I’ll give it to you. Give you anything you want,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead and dropping onto Damian’s trembling belly. 

“Want to come. You too. Want to come together,” Damian whines, tossing his head back, and he’s a sight to be seen, all dark eyes and pink cheeks with his mouth open and swollen from kisses and glossy with spit, so unbelievably gorgeous. 

Dick’s fucking him deep enough now that he can make out the outline of his cock in Damian’s stomach, can see a visible bulge in his belly. Dick moves his hand from Damian’s clit to his stomach, ignoring his disappointed whine which cuts off as soon as he realises why Dick’s attention has been diverted. 

“You’re so deep in me that I can _see_ you,” Damian whispers, breathless awe in his voice, and that’s all it takes for Dick to come, biting into the side of Damian’s neck to muffle his shout as he spills inside him. 

Damian cries out in surprise, and then after a couple more seconds, hiccups out a sob and rakes his nails down Dick’s shoulders as he tightens around his pulsing cock, heels digging into his back.

Dick’s arms are shaking by the time Damian’s come down from his orgasm, and he nearly collapses on top of him but then reminds himself that his weight would probably crush Damian. So he pulls out instead, hushes Damian’s whimpers with kisses and gentle reassurances that he’s okay before grabbing a washcloth from his bathroom and clambering back onto the bed to clean them both up.

Once he’s done, Dick lies down on his back and pulls Damian on top of him, one arm slung over his back as he strokes Damian’s sweaty hair and presses his mouth to Damian’s forehead. Damian curls into him without any struggles, resting his head upon Dick’s chest.

They lie there in a peaceful silence for a few minutes before Damian mumbles something into his skin. “What was that?” Dick says softly as he brings his hand up to lightly touch Damian’s cheek.

Damian’s eyelashes brush against his fingers as he blinks rapidly, and then he’s lifting his head up to look Dick in the eye. He looks shy, nervous even, and it’s impossibly adorable.

”You aren’t going to ignore me or avoid me again after this, are you?” Damian murmurs, looking uncertain and a little scared. Dick’s heart cracks, and he feels awful that he’s the reason for that look on Damian’s face. He’s never wanted to be the reason for Damian’s fear.

Dick tucks his fingers underneath Damian’s chin to tilt his head up a little, just enough that he can lean down and press a gentle kiss to Damian’s mouth. ”No,” he says, smiling, and his voice is softer than it’s ever been. “I don’t think I could now.”

Damian inhales sharply, then his face softens with relief as he lowers his head again, leaning into Dick’s hand tangled in his hair, a sign that he would like the petting to continue.   


“Good,” Damian says, voice muffled by Dick’s skin, and Dick hides his smile in Damian’s hair when he kisses Dick’s chest, right on top of his heart as his arms tighten around Dick. “I won’t let you.”


End file.
